Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Dad gave a gentle nod. “He’s in good hands, son.”
“I’ve never removed this many blood clots before. How am I supposed to get them all in thirty minutes while not tearing into his pulmonary wall and killing him?” No other doctor would take on this operation because his condition was so chronic, the bypass wouldn’t allow enough time for it to be feasible to get everything, and I couldn’t do some and go back in later. That was traumatic to the body and the heart.
“You forget how brilliant you are, Dex. You forget how much experience you have. How many surgeries have you done?”
“Six hundred and thirty-two.” I never forgot a patient—ever.
He smiled with his eyes. “You’ve got this.”
It was the same procedure I did on Allen. I got all the blood clots and took him off bypass, but once his heart had started to beat again, he flatlined. There was no tear in the wall of his heart or his pulmonary valve that I knew of, but perhaps I missed it. The autopsy said it was unspecified cardiac arrest and nothing more.
Dad seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. “It wasn’t you, Dex.”
“If I don’t do this, he’ll die. So I have to do it.”
Dad nodded. “When he’s moved to ICU and you look at Angelica and tell her that procedure went perfectly, that she can already see the steady rise and fall of his chest because his lungs no longer have that immense pressure, you will finally feel like you again. You will be you again.”
“What if that’s not what happens?”
“It will.”
“How do you—”
“Because I do. Son, if I needed open-heart surgery, you’re the only person I’d go to.”
“Oh god, please don’t say that…” I’d already dealt with Mom getting cancer. I didn’t want to even think about my father lying on a table, his chest cut open, his heart still because it’d been shut down and now his life was dependent on the bypass machine.
His eyes softened. “I just went for my annual checkup, and I’m one-hundred-percent healthy.”
I released a sigh of relief. “You better be…”
He moved his glass to the side and reached his hand across the table to squeeze mine. “I would put my life in your hands in a heartbeat—no pun intended. That’s all I’m trying to say. You’re the top heart surgeon in the world, and it’s time for you to return to your life of service, of healing people, of bringing quality health care to everyone who needs it. You know I’m not religious, but the work you do makes me wonder if I should be.”
I dropped my gaze, touched by what he said.
“I’m so proud of you.”
“I haven’t done it yet—”
“But you will. And your mother and I will be there to celebrate.”
Derek sat on the couch beside me, leaning back with Little Deacon asleep on his chest, wearing pajamas that showed space rockets and satellites. The game was on, so we drank our beer and ate the chips and salsa Emerson had put out for us. “You doing okay?” He turned to look at me.
“I guess.”
“I’ll never forget the day I launched the Commodore. I was scared shitless, but I sat right on this couch holding hands with Emerson and Lizzie…and watched it go out into space without a hiccup.”
“Hey, watch the language.” I glanced at his son.
Derek rolled his eyes. “This guy is out like a light. Had one hell of a day at the office.”
“You take him with you to work?”
“Sometimes. I usually do a half day with paperwork and whatnot and bring them with me. I don’t like them at day care all the time.”
“That’s cute.”
Derek shrugged. “You been doing anything to prepare?”
“I’ve watched a couple procedures in the surgical theaters with the residents. They want me to start bringing in students to assist, but I told them I need to complete this surgery before I feel comfortable again.”
He nodded in understanding.
“Every time I try to prepare for it, I realize there’s nothing I can really do. I’m ready. I just need to do it.”
“Yeah, I doubt you would simply forget something you’ve trained for your entire life. Your skills were never the problem.”
I turned to look at the TV again. “I’ve spent the rest of my time doing research. The practice is technically open, but I’m not taking any new patients right now. Sicily says the phone is ringing off the hook and her email is being hit hard. Word travels fast.”
“Well, when people find out the best surgeon in the world is open for business again, they are going to get excited.”
I never identified with that label anymore, not even on my best day. When patients repeated my track record back at me, I almost didn’t believe that was me. It seemed like they were talking about a whole other doctor. “How are things with you?”